


Wanna be my house-husband?

by ladypigswagon



Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic!Stiles, Tumblr Prompt, mild NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3665442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypigswagon/pseuds/ladypigswagon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dinner’s ready,” Stiles calls when he hears the apartment door open, cutting a hefty slice of lasagne and depositing it on a plate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanna be my house-husband?

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked: Stiles/Jordan "Stiles are you telling me you wanna be my house-husband?"(It can be another pairing I just really think House-husband stay at home dad Stiles would be cool to write)  
> I like Parrish so this is fine. Stiles isn’t a completely stay-at-home dad cause I don’t think Stiles could be like that, he’d still do the whole supernatural save the world thing regardless.

“Dinner’s ready,” Stiles calls when he hears the apartment door open, cutting a hefty slice of lasagne and depositing it on a plate. 

“Coming,” Jordan replies. Stiles hears the click of Jordan undoing his gun harness and smirks when he hears it bash against the umbrella stand next to the coat hanger. He cuts himself a slice of lasagne, puts tin foil over the rest and pours two glasses of red wine. He is about to put everything on the table when a strong pair of arms wrap around his waist.

“How was your shift?” Stiles asks, relaxing into Jordan’s hold. Jordan makes a noncommittal noise, choosing instead to nuzzle Stiles’ neck. “That bad huh?”

“Long,” Jordan replies, “And since you put me on fast food duty, your Dad is becoming more crafty at sneaking in red meat.”

Stiles sighs, turning in Jordan’s arms so that he can face him. Despite Jordan’s tired voice, he still looks incredible as if he’s just come off the runway in Paris instead of a 12 hour shift. Stiles cups Jordan’s cheek, running his thumb across those sharp cheekbones before he gives Jordan a chaste kiss.

“Dad’s getting wily in his old age,” Stiles says sagely, “Now let’s eat the fruits of my labour before they go cold.”

They sit at the kitchen table, having to move Stiles spell books first. Stiles makes them levitate through the kitchen into the living room and onto the coffee table. Once they’ve landed successfully Jordan claps, grinning happily. He responds to Stiles offered fist bump and then they sit down to eat.

“Hogwarts is going well then?” Jordan enquires, sprinkling pepper on top of his lasagne. 

“Hogwarts is great,” Stiles replies, “Although we’re not supposed to call it Hogwarts.” Stiles made that mistake the first day, when he’d made a joke about whether they’d be sorted into house and received sour glares from the rest of the class. Apparently the ‘Harry Potter’ reputation makes it hard for mages to be taken seriously amongst the supernatural community. Stiles doesn’t really see the issue, though admittedly he’d rather be Gandalf than Harry Potter.

“Deaton says if I keep doing this well then I might graduate next year instead of the year after next,” Stiles says, looking at his plate rather than meeting Jordan’s eyes. 

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“Yeah I suppose,” Stiles says, using his fork to swirl the cheese sauce around his plate rather than eat it. 

“What’s wrong Stiles?” Jordan asks. Stiles looks at the remains of his lasagne, because the lasagne doesn’t have adorable green eyes. “Stiles look at me please.”

Stiles does because he can tell Jordan is seconds away from using that no nonsense Deputy voice. He’s met with soft eyes and a outstretched hand. Stiles drops his fork to take Jordan’s hand, lets Jordan flip it so their fingers intertwine and rub his thumb along Stiles skin. It’s soothing. 

“Well,” Stiles begins, voice wavering, “Deaton thinks that maybe since I’d be graduating a year early, much to the other mages displeasure. I mean seriously those guys have such sticks up their asses, you’d have thought I’d murdered their families or something.” Jordan listens throughout Stiles preamble. He always listens to Stiles, even when Stiles is deflecting through ranting. He knows Stiles will get to his point eventually, he just needs time.

“Anyway so Deaton thinks that maybe I could open a consultancy business for the supernatural community. Thinks I’d be great at it, as well as being Scott’s emissary.”

“Helping people is something you excel at,” Jordan says encouragingly. He has such faith in Stiles. 

“Yeah but that would probably be a part time job and I don’t really have any skills for other jobs and I know you want kids and so I thought maybe I could consult and look after them.” Stiles says all of this very quickly, looking at their intertwined hands instead of Jordan’s face. 

“Stiles are you telling me you want to be my house husband?” Jordan asks, mirth in his tone. Stiles looks at Jordan then, notices the sparkle of glee in his eyes.

“Part time house husband,” Stiles corrects, “And yeah, maybe. I mean we’d wait a few more years before kids cause I’d like to get the consulting up and running and Dad’s set to retire soon.”

“If that’s what you want,” Jordan says, “And it makes you happy then you should do it.” Jordan smiles which prompts Stiles to smile in return. Stiles stands up, walks over to sit in Jordan’s lap. Jordan receives him happily, pulling Stiles close and holding him in his arms.

“What did I do to get such an awesome boyfriend?” Stiles ponders aloud, kissing Jordan on the tip of his nose.

“A meddling father,” Jordan replies loftily, “And having a wonderful personality and excellent body.” Jordan kisses Stiles neck, biting and sucking marks into it. Stiles moans blissfully.

“No fair,” Stiles says, a little breathless, “I can’t give you hickeys.”

Jordan ignores him, instead palming Stiles through his jeans. Stiles moans, head dropping to lean on Jordan's shoulder.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Jordan murmurs, relishing in the way Stiles squirms beneath his hand.

“Whoever comes first does the dishes,” Stiles gasps.

“Deal,” Jordan says, lifting Stiles up and carrying him to the bedroom.


End file.
